Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
“No, Antonio, I’m pissed.” She tried to elbow him but he avoided any direct hit, which only served to piss her off even more. “I need some water. Let me go.”
She stamped her foot, feeling like a child, but whatever or however she said it worked. He released her body, and she walked through to the kitchen. At the cupboards, she hunted for a glass, anything. She hadn’t spent much time at the apartment unless it was to sleep with Antonio or to wait for him.
The last three days, he’d called or given her some kind of notice he’d be around, and she’d take her cue to be close by.
Today, though, she had to work since she’d requested extra shifts.
Her hand shook as she filled the glass she finally found with water. Of course the glass had been in the last cupboard she’d looked in.
Suddenly, Antonio was there, minus his clothes. His heavily inked body was on display as he’d removed his shirt and pants and stood before her completely naked. Even his cock stood out long and thick, the tip leaking pre-cum. She hated her response to him.
There was no denying her attraction for this man, but right now, she was determined to stay angry at him.
He held out a bottle of whiskey. “Will this do?”
“You think you’re being cute?”
He smirked.
She grabbed the bottle from him, finished off her water, and poured out a generous amount of whiskey. Before she could pick up the glass, he swiped it from her, mocking her.
Tilting the bottle to her lips, she took several long swigs even as her throat burned.
He wasn’t going to get the better of her.
She finished drinking and coughed. “I don’t care what kind of woman you’re used to, or what they want from you, or don’t want. This is my life and I don’t want you to screw it up. Please, don’t … don’t do what you did tonight. I don’t want to have to deal with it.”
“You don’t have to work.” He wasn’t shouting. They had both calmed down. “I’ll take care of you.”
She took another swig, this time not as long, and certainly not as much. “And if you get bored, what then? What will happen to me when you decide you no longer want me? That I’m too much hard work for you to deal with?”
“Not going to happen.”
“Antonio, you’re single. I’m not a fool and clearly you’re a wealthy man, and I’m currently a shiny new toy. I’ve done and seen the whole foster and adoption thing. When it doesn’t work out, you know what they do, they return the kids. It’s not different from dating. Guys and girls see who they want. Sometimes it works out with marriage and the happy endings with a nice family and whatnot. For others, they hate it, put whoever it was they plucked back on the shelf, and move onto the next shiny toy. I like to work. I need to. I can’t have you doing what you did today. I love my jobs.”
“What makes you believe this is ever going to be over?” he asked.
“I’m not holding out for marriage or a ring. We’ve known each other less than a week, and so far, you’ve stolen from me and invaded my work. I can keep on going on with the entire list of everything you’ve done, but I’d really just like to know that I’ve got a job.”
“You’ve got a job. No one would dare fire you.”
She watched him as he sipped at his whiskey. Not being a big drinker herself, she put the bottle down and stepped close to the counter. She wasn’t removing any of her clothes.
“I want to take care of you.”
“We don’t know each other and these things take time. They have to. I don’t know what you do for a living, who you are. I know you’re rich, and it makes me uncomfortable.”
He chuckled. “My wealth makes you uncomfortable?”
“Yes. I’m not wealthy. I have a little put aside for emergencies but it wouldn’t even cover one month’s rent on this place. Do you know how scary it is? I don’t want to be seen as a gold-digger, but in these circumstances, I would be. I don’t like being called names. I think I’d rather be in a fight than be called names.”
“No one will call you anything.” He got to his feet and this time, as he pulled her into his arms, she didn’t fight him.
“What is it you do, anyway?” She felt him tense and tilted her head back.
“Why do you want to know?”
She giggled. “You know, for a hot guy, I’m starting to wonder if you’ve even dated.”
“I haven’t. Women have thrown themselves at me. I don’t have to work for anything.”
“That makes total sense. Okay, during a date, you’re supposed to talk. To get to know one another. Usually over coffee or a meal.”